


bucket of feathers

by Corvifae



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Foster Care, Gen, Genderfluid Character, genderfluid lena, ill add more tags when i post the stories, magica sucks as usual, scrap collection, writing scraps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvifae/pseuds/Corvifae
Summary: this is a collection of my ducktales scraps/abandoned ideas. they vary in length, and some are just shy of being finished.they're all up for adoption if any of you want to finish them/write anything for themthey're also up for 'convince me' status--see one you really like? tell me and maybe ill finish it!





	1. I See Your Monsters

“Are you  _ totally  _ useless?” Magica pointed her staff at the shadow as she sneered. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

The shadow looked at her and shrugged, unsure of itself. Lena felt bad for it; she knew exactly how that felt. It wasn’t the shadow’s fault it wasn’t perfect or that the kids fought back. Magica was just entitled and  _ lazy. _

Maybe Scrooge was onto something about magic and laziness after all.

Magica scoffed, a sound that made Lena’s feathers puff up. “I should have known you would have been useless. Very well. This will be an excellent show of my  _ true _ power.”

“What?” Lena spun around and stared at Magica with wide, disbelieving eyes. She couldn’t--Even if it was just a shadow puppet, would she really--

Lena saw the spell spark across the staff and she knew what it meant. Even if it was only a puppet, she couldn’t bring herself to sit back and watch it  _ die.  _ Maybe they weren’t like her, maybe they really were mindless puppets, maybe they were attacking the very real children. But she couldn’t… she  _ couldn’t. _

She barely thought anything as she began to run. Her shoes slipped and slid over the coins beneath her, but she continued steadily and quickly until she was right in front of--

Her heart pounded in her chest and her head as she stood in front of what would have been a finishing blow for Louie’s shadow. Her vision erupted into spots of blindness as the shot hit her stomach and knocked her back harshly into the coins below her.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Lena!”

She heard several of the kids call out to her but she couldn’t move. She only laid there, dazed, as Magica’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“You  _ fool. _ ” Magica hissed, “You’re even worse than I imagined. Sacrificing yourself for a  _ shadow? _ It’s not even  _ real. _ ” Magica rose to her full height and sneered down at Lena. “But neither are you, so I suppose it makes sense.

Lena managed to open her eyes and squinted as she peered down at herself. The front of her shirt was absolutely ruined; charred by heat and magic that went down as far as her feathers and skin. It didn’t hurt yet. But it would. 

She coughed and could taste ash in her mouth. Whether that was from being turned into a shadow or was a very worrying affect of the blast she had no idea, and she was willing to put off finding out. For now all she could do was breathe.

She looked up, her heartbeat still loud in her ears, and saw Magica staring hard at Webby. 

“Lena’s my friend!” Webby screamed in a voice so hurt it made Lena want to cry, “Don’t talk about her like that!”

_ But it’s true. _ Lena felt tears well in her eyes as she struggled not to submit to the raw emotion Webby conveyed,  _ I’m a monster. I’m nothing. _

A figure approached her and she looked up, curious and terrified at who or what might have found her, only to come face to face with Huey. 

“Stay still.” He said seriously, “That looks bad. Webby’s got this.”

She looked over and sure enough Webby had begun to make Magica lose her ground. She even felt a bit intimidated by the way Webby seemed to go to town on Magica with sheer anger and hurt obvious in her voice.

She couldn’t believe anyone cared that much about  _ her. _

Louie kneeled beside her and looked down, worried. “Lena, why are you losing your color? You’re in like, black and white.”

Ah.

“Hm. That’s--not good.” She managed to get out through her dry throat that ached as she spoke. “Mm--’m a shadow--turning--back I think--”

She swallowed hard. She really didn’t want that to happen, especially since this felt like it might be more… permanent. Was she--dying?


	2. saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tbh i might still finish this one, i remember where i was going with it and it was Cute. i love webby & donald bonding

Between spy training, watching Disney shows, and her miscellaneous hyperfixations, Webby didn’t often have time to think about what other people did. In a way she kind of assumed they did similar things--maybe not learning how to properly use an array of weapons or how to dispatch an enemy without being spotted, but something  _ similar _ , surely.

When the triplets moved in, though, she had the opportunity to observe some of the more casual things people did. The house was constantly alive with someone doing something, which meant she had a far easier time people watching.

It totally wasn’t ‘stalking’ or ‘being creepy’.

Webby leaned against the back of the couch and stared down at Louie, who laid propped against the arm of the couch and stared back up at her. They all had a mutual understanding of sorts. Webby didn’t know how to socialize properly and the boys didn’t mind being part of her learning process so long as it wasn’t embarrassing or inconvenient. 

Louie raised a brow. “Did you wanna take a seat?”

“How come you aren’t out with Mr. Duck?”

Odd speaking habits aside, it was killing her not to understand. Every Saturday since the Ducks moved in the boys and Donald had gone out. Sometimes it was the mall, sometimes it was lunch, sometimes it was ice cream. But it was always  _ something. _

And yet there it was, Saturday, and the boys were home. She hadn’t even  _ seen _ Donald. She supposed he could have been at work or fixing his house boat, but she didn’t want to risk going to the boat and disturbing him. It was much easier to bother Louie about it.

Louie shrugged. “Huey had a project and Dewey’s in the middle of that book series he found. Uncle Donald said there’s always next week.”

Webby tilted her head to the side, curious. “Was he upset?”

Louie took a sip of his soda and shrugged. “Why would he be?”

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was probably rhetorical, but she couldn’t help but open her mouth. That happened a lot, really. “I mean, it’s like… Part of your schedule, right? And it changed?”

“It’s happened before.” Louie made a face that Webby couldn’t read, “Sometimes we just don’t go. It’s not a big deal or anything.” He put his soda on the table and changed the channel on the TV. “Did you wanna watch Ottoman Empire?”

“No, thanks.” She waved him off, “I have Webby Things to do.”

_ Webby Things _ was usually code for ‘I have to go think about this for a few hours because I don’t know what it means and this is a new situation for me’, and Louie nodded in understanding. Really she actually had other things to do, but it wasn’t  _ wrong _ , either.

She wandered through the halls for a bit as she chewed on the new information. Sometimes they didn’t go out on Saturdays. That wasn’t a big deal. She figured that out of the few months they had been there that was still only a handful of Saturdays, so it made sense that every now and then it didn’t work out.

So why did it bother her?

There was the idea that a set schedule changed, that could have been it. She was all for being spontaneous, but having plans changed at the last minute was still anxiety-inducing sometimes. 

It felt like it was more, though. 

She peeked out a window and saw Donald out by the pool. He didn’t look too busy. Maybe she should say hi. Maybe he was lonely.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Maybe he was lonely.

Webby nodded to herself, suddenly more sure of why she had been bothered before. Maybe Donald didn’t want to be alone.

She trotted out the door before she could overthink the matter and found herself face to face with Donald Duck himself in a matter of seconds. While the surprise had kind of worn off in the time they had lived together, the awe never did. She still grinned up at him, goofy and excited, and offered a cheery hello.

“Hi, Webby.” He chuckled, “What brings you here?” He paused what he was doing to smile down at her.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to!” She rocked back and forth between her toes and her heels. She could clearly see he was sweeping the pool area, but she had learned it was a common social act to ask anyways. “Soooo.. What are you up to?”

“Just cleaning around the house.” He motioned to the boat with the broom. “Already cleaned inside.”

“You didn’t go anywhere with the triplets today.” She tilted her head again. 


	3. dad

Family was… Complicated.

Donald gently corrected Dewey. “It’s  _ Uncle Donald, _ Dewey.”

Louie and Huey stared at them, curious about the exchange. They had never called Donald dad before, and they were surprised Dewey had. They knew he must have had his reasoning, but it was… New.

“But… You’re our dad.”

Young Dewey didn’t understand why Uncle Donald was Uncle Donald and not dad. Wasn’t the man who raised you a father? Why did Uncle Donald avoid the word dad like the plague, like the word physically hurt him?

Donald cringed slightly and reached down to pick Dewey up. He took a few slow breaths and swallowed.

Maybe it was something Dewey did. Maybe he was too wild. Maybe he didn’t listen enough. Maybe he just wasn’t smart enough to understand why things were the way they were.

“I’m sorry, Dewey.” Donald whispered to him as he held him, pain evident in his voice. “I’m so sorry. But Della… Your mother should have been here. I can’t take that--” He looked away. 

Dewey didn’t understand. Della wasn’t there.  _ Donald _ was. What made that different? Why did it hurt?

He clutched Donald’s jacket in his fingers and buried his head in Donald’s shoulder. “It’s okay Uncle Donald.”

He was only four. He didn’t know why it hurt Uncle Donald. But he was sorry that it did, because that wasn’t what he wanted to do.

They didn’t have another  _ incident _ for a while.

\-----------

Eleven year old Louie knew the same thing; Uncle Donald was Uncle Donald.

Still, he couldn’t help but think that was kind of a crappy situation. He understood that Donald just felt bad, like he had taken Della’s kids from her. But Louie--and the other boys--knew that wasn’t true. There was love in their hearts for both of them, just like how Donald had love for the boys and Webby.

So… He may have planted the idea in Dewey’s head. Hey, what are siblings for if not for convincing them to do stuff  _ you  _ might get in trouble for? Besiiiiides, Dewey was more than happy to latch onto the plan, and Huey didn’t have an argument against it. If it worked it would be win-win. If not, they still had each other. And Donald.

“We’re older now.” He pointed out to Dewey, “Maybe we can decide ourselves what we call him. I mean, it’s not like we don’t love mom just because we call him dad.”

He sprawled on his stomach as he flipped through a magazine. Beside him Webby skimmed through a spell book that he was certain she wasn’t supposed to have, but he had no reason to blackmail her currently. Huey sat at the desk and had been working on his journal for two hours. Dewey paced around the room, hyper and ready to let loose.

“But if he  _ prefers  _ Uncle Donald, it’s not fair to take that from him.” Huey pointed out, though his voice betrayed his consideration. They had talked about it before, to an extent. Donald was their dad, even if they didn’t call him such. They didn’t really have a  _ problem _ with calling him uncle, but… If the only thing holding him back was  _ Della… _

“But what if he only prefers it because of us?” Dewey asked, “We should be able to have a say in it too!”

Louie smirked, satisfied that his bait had been snatched. Now that Dewey had spoken about it there was no way he was going to let it go. All Louie had to do was sit back and watch whatever happened next.

He glanced over at Webby, who had a weird look on her face.

“What do you think, Webs?” He offered as a chance for her to speak. She looked worried and that possibly threw a kink in his plan. If all of them weren’t on board then where did that leave them? 

“Oh!” She turned and grinned at him, almost convincing. “I definitely think it’s something you should talk about! I mean, I know a lot’s been happening lately but… Communication is a good place to start, right?”

He almost believed that’s what she wanted to say. It was solid advice, and their family  _ definitely  _ needed help communicating. Still, she seemed worried. Maybe the uncertainty of it just worried her?

He glanced down and watched her fiddle with her bracelet. He didn’t know what to say. They knew Lena was with them still, but she wasn’t  _ there. _ He couldn’t imagine how that felt. Of course Webby had a lot on her mind. Did this seem trivial to her? Not that he would blame her.

He nodded. He hadn’t expected this to bring up more problems that he realized they had put off, but that sounded about right. “Yeah. Communication is key, fellas.”

Dewey nodded with a serious look on his face. “Let’s give him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Dewey, no, it’s not that kind of communication.”


	4. babysitter au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> babysitter au! tbh i like the idea behind this one. lena befriending the triplets first would have been Super interesting tbh

“I should be back before dinner, but they know their bedtime routine if not. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, all of the important numbers are on the counter, um--um--”

“I think we can make it, Mr. Duck.” She wasn’t normally one for formalities, but she didn’t want to risk it this time. It was a miracle he was letting her babysit to begin with; she wasn’t about to risk a source of money just to call him by his first name. “You should go before you’re late.”

That got him, and he nodded as he began to speed walk towards the door. Each of the boys got a kiss on the head as he walked by. “Okay, okay. Be good! Don’t give Lena any trouble, call if you need anything!”

She expected him to hurriedly close the door behind him, but he peeked his head through one last time. “And really, thank you again, Lena.”

She waved him off, unsure what to say, and finally the door closed. She looked back at the boys and barely stopped herself from jumping as she realized all three of them stared at her, curious.

“How old are you?”

“Lena’s a pretty name! I’m Dewey!”

“Can we play outside?”

One thing she hadn’t really thought through yet was that she actually… Didn’t interact with children much. Sure, there had been the rare occasion she teased a baby looking over their parents shoulder, and she’d been in a few foster homes with siblings before, but… She hadn’t given Donald a direct answer when he had asked if she had experience babysitting.

She… Knew what a child was. That had to count for something?

“I’m fifteen,” Technically not a lie and technically all she knew, “Thank you, Dewey, your name’s cute.” She could already tell he would be a handful, “And… Does Donald let you play outside? This seems like kind of a boring place to play.”

Maybe it was because she hadn’t grown up on a boat, but she didn’t think playing on a dock was fun. The nearest park wasn’t too far away, but the idea of keeping an eye on three troublemaking ten year olds was a bit much for her to think about.

“He does, but we have homework to do.” The red one gave his green brother a look that Lena didn’t quite get, but she was sure it was something to do with the red one knowing something she didn’t. That was fair, she was definitely out of her depth.

She snickered. “Isn’t it the last week of school? That sucks, dude.”

She hadn’t lasted long in school, but she definitely agreed that it sucked. Teachers, other people, homework, it was all so boring and constricting. Part of her missed it because she remembered the free lunch she could get out of it, but she didn’t miss it that much.

“Wow, thanks Hubert, now we have to do homework.” The green one scowled at the red one, who rolled his eyes.

“You would have to have done it eventually, anyways. It’s only practical to do it now, while we have time.” The red one (Hubert, apparently, but Lena was pretty sure Donald had called him something else) tipped up his beak almost snobbishly. 

Lena was grateful that their personalities weren’t identical. Obviously Dewey was the louder, attention seeking brother. Hubert-Red-One was the know it all and probably the oldest. The green one seemed more laid back, but she had seen the gleam in his eyes when he asked if they could play outside. Laid back didn’t mean ‘not a handful in his own way’.

“He’s right.” She said coolly, as if she had known all along they had homework, “It’s time for homework. Then we’ll see about playing outside.”

It wouldn’t be dark for a few hours yet, so they had plenty of time. Still, Green and Dewey didn’t seem enthusiastic as they set their backpacks on the table. Lena noticed that Hubert already had his bag set up and had a folder out, so everyone was accounted for.

She sat at the table too, since there was plenty of room. She watched them dig out folders and library books as they each figured out what it was they had to do.

“Are you all in the same class?” She’d never thought about it, but did siblings get separated on purpose? Or would they be in the same class?

“No,” Dewey shrugged, “Me and Louie are in Ms. Eggbert’s class, and Huey is in an advanced class.”

Ah. So they probably would have been in the same class, if not for Huey’s intelligence. Still, that was pretty cool, to be in the smart person class. Even as a picky older kid Lena could see that.

“The nerd class.” Lena nodded wisely, as if Huey had just been diagnosed with nerd-ism. “I see.”

She caught Huey’s frown across the table and only smirked. 

Louie, the green one, snickered. “Yeah, it’s cool though. It helps us all ‘learn at our own pace’ and all that junk. Plus Huey raises his hand for every question. It’s embarrassing.”

Lena nodded as if she understood having a sibling. She guessed Louie didn’t like having a know-it-all brother, but she wasn’t quite sure why. 

Huey scoffed. “Well maybe if you paid attention, you would know the same things.”

The bickered back and forth, and Lena had no interest in stopping them. Either they would figure it out or Dewey would step in, hopefully.

She hadn’t had time to take in the boat house before, but she did then. It was… Nice. Small, for sure, but she lived in a single room under a theater so it wasn’t like she had better. The main difference, though, between the boat house and her own place was the colors. The boat was bathed in warm light and warm colors; yellows, reds, the occasional browns. It was… Chipper.

It didn’t contrast with their argument, either. It still felt peaceful as the brothers exchanged jabs and did not work on their homework. She could already tell that Louie was arguing on purpose to put off doing actual work, meanwhile Huey honestly wanted to have the last word.

Dewey, the sibling that sat next to her, hadn’t said a word during the whole exchange. That surprised her more than she thought it would. She had pegged him as the loudest sibling, but apparently she had been wrong, somehow.

She glanced over at him and watched as he scowled at the page of homework before him. Word problems. She would never say it out loud, but those were her favorite. She’d always had a knack for puzzles.

The argument between the other two died down and she watched both of them tackle their work. Huey buried himself in a book that was surprisingly thick, and Louie began to write an essay with the fury of a scorned house wife.

Dewey, however, had yet to answer the first question.

She watched him carefully to try and determine what was up. Her eyes were half lidded as she scanned the page of problems. They weren’t particularly complicated, but she wasn’t familiar with the level of work a ten year old should be able to do. It very well could have been a rubix cube for the boy, for all she knew.

She frowned as he continued to stare at the page. His eyes kept moving back and forth, so he definitely hadn’t just spaced out, but he grew more and more frustrated as the time ticked on. 

She leaned back and propped her arms up on the back of the booth. Maybe he had a hard time reading? But if he did, surely his siblings would know and would have offered to help. Instead, Louie continued to write his essay, already almost done. And Huey--

She made eye contact with Huey, who frowned at her. She was surprised at the animosity he seemed to project at her, given she hadn’t been aware she had said anything to him.

“Leave him alone.” His tone also surprised her, “He probably doesn’t like you glaring over his shoulder.”

She scrunched up her face, confused. “What the he--ck are you talking about?” Great, he hated her already. Kids were awful.

Huey scrunched up his beak in anger. “You’re staring at him! Just leave him alone!” Obviously she had somehow hit a sore spot despite not saying anything. All she had done was worry about him, and look where that had gotten her.

“I didn’t do squat, kid. You’re a bit defensive.”


	5. shadow scrooge

Scrooge McDuck had a long history of waking up from passing out, so he knew the feeling well. Which meant he was confused when he felt himself waking up with no knowledge of either falling asleep or being attacked. He supposed it could have been a sneak attack, or a fainting spell, or any number of things, but something felt horribly, horribly wrong.

He opened his eyes and gagged at the sudden bright light that filled his vision. He felt hungover--also not something he remembered--and sick and very, very confused. He realized, as his eyes adjusted to the bright light, that he was overlooking a body of water and a setting sun. Why, he wondered, would he be outside, when the last memory he had was of--of--his heart ached at the memory of what his last memory had been. Webby and Beakley had walked out on him, just like Donald and the boys had.

He shook his head, determined to resurface from such thoughts. "Where am I?" He squinted and looked around him, but his vision felt oddly obscured, like he was looking at a two dimensional object with three dimensional parts. He felt dizzy and sick and really hoped he was just hungover, somehow.

"My shadow." He jumped when he realized someone was with him, and looked up (around? To the side? He wasn't sure.) and met the eyes of Webby's friend Lena. She looked at him, a mix of unimpressed and confused, and shrugged. "Well, I thought you were either in the dime or dead, honestly. Was not prepared for this."

In the di-- _ dead?! _

Scrooge scowled as he realized he had been part of an attack of some kind. He reached out to grab the girl and watched as she flinched back, but he found his form was only an inky shadow. He stared down at his hand, almost a void in reality it was so dark, and his jaw dropped. He was obviously no longer solid or in his body. He noticed that his limbs felt heavy and his mouth tasted like ash. His heartbeat quickened as he felt white hot panic set in. All he could think to say, though, was "What have ya done?"

Lena's face changed several times, all through different emotions he couldn't quite place. He could see something similar to shock and anger a few times, but the others were all too convoluted for him to understand. Given the time it took her to answer, he thought maybe she felt the same. 

"I di--I, well." She scowled and turned away to face the sun. She sighed angrily and shook her head. "Fine. I guess... Well, I guess you can know now. She's not stopping me." He almost asked who, but she charged on with the conversation, "I'm... Magica de Spell's niece. I've been helping her get a hold of your stupid dime. I pretended to be friends with Webby so I could find a chance to take it."

She threw a rock into the water, hard, and it made a loud  _ gulp _ sound. "You're trapped in your dime, right now. Just like Magica was. I guess since she was tethered to me, it made you able to do the same thing. Figures." She threw another rock, this time it skipped across the water several times before it disappeared. 

Her voice was bitter and  _ hurt _ and Scrooge frowned harder. "Magica, huh. I should'a known, with the eclipse approaching. I thought she was gone fer good, but ah should'a been more careful." He shook his head, angry at himself for not considering such a powerful old foe may return. "And I should'a known _ you _ were nothin' but trouble." That phrase--no, not now, he couldn't break down now, not again, why did he always have to say that, why did he always have to blame people-- "What would a punk like you want with Webby, besides mindwashin' her ta do yer bidding?"

Part of him felt bad for talking to a child that way, but his whole family was at stake because of Magica's family. His blood boiled at the thought of whatever Magica may have been doing at that very moment, not to mention how Webby would react when she found out her best friend was a fraud. Probably similarly to how she reacted when he-- Maybe she would never have to know, maybe he could think of a lie, but for now he was limited on what he could do.

Lena, for her part, only frowned and shrugged. "You got me there, old man. I'm nothin' but trouble."

"And you don't even care, do ye? Look at you, watchin' the sunset while yer aunt does God knows what. I don't know how ta get out of this form, but ya better help me or I'll make yer life a living hell.  _ No one _ messes with my family." He felt like his speech would have been more powerful on anyone but a rebellious teenager, since all she did was raise an eyebrow and shrug again. His own words echoed, hollow and cold in the pit of his stomach. 

"Not much I can do, Gramps. I'm not that great at magic by myself, and it was pretty powerful magic that sealed you in there. Plus, I'm kinda tired. It's been a long freaking day." She stood and stretched lazily, her arms stretched in the air above her head. "Besides, as of right now, I haven't done anything worse to them than you have."

Scrooge made a sound of disbelief as he flinched away. She was right, though, and he knew it. He had done... a lot. His family was hurt and scattered, and his soul burned with the knowledge that he had done that  _ before _ Magica had been involved. He felt the depression from before hit him; an absolute inability to do anything seeped into his bones (was that phrase even still accurate, given his condition?) and he had to fight to keep himself afloat in a sea of mental numbness. He couldn't lose himself. Not again, and not now. "Ya can't just--ya can't--"

Lena groaned and rolled her eyes as she turned to face him. "Listen, maybe I'll help you. Maybe. In the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Magica isn't making her next move for a few days at least, and you've chased away all of your family, so you've got time. Plus, there's nothing I  _ could _ do tonight if I wanted." She crossed her arms defiantly. "I'm going to bed."

He muttered to himself angrily. She had a point; there really wasn't much he could do at the moment, especially if she really didn't have magic near Magica's level. His family wasn't even talking to him at the moment, so he didn't know if they would even help. Part of him wanted to say yes, they would, undoubtedly. But another part, a bigger and darker part, told him that he had ruined that. They would only think he would drag them down with them, and maybe they were right. In addition to that, Lena had been surprised that he was there, which meant it was possible Magica also didn't know he was there. He would have to wait and plan his next move carefully.

Also, he figured, maybe being amicable with Lena would encourage her to help him. He felt like she hadn't given him the full story of what had happened and who she was, so maybe he had a chance at getting her to help. In all honesty, the few times he had seen her and Webby interact they hadn't seemed to be fake. He supposed that maybe she was just really good at acting, but she didn't seem the type. 

"Fine." He realized she had actually waited for him to respond, which made him lean more towards getting her honest help. "But in the morning we're talking about this for real. No avoiding it."

She nodded and blinked slowly. He realized she really did look exhausted, with bags under her eyes and wrinkled clothes. Her shoulders sagged as she dropped her crossed arms and walked forward. "Cool. Guess I'll show you my place, then."

In his mind, he expected a long walk somewhere. Maybe the nearby apartments, or a longer walk to the residences on the side of town. What he hadn't expected was for her to stomp her foot down on the floor under her, and for a trap door to open up like a gaping maw.

She stepped on the first ring of the ladder that lead down and began her descent, sure to close the door behind her. He felt himself pulled gently with her as she reached the bottom. She stepped out into a room and turned on the light, and he gasped in surprise.

A bedroom. 

It was dark, but he could see enough of the room to know it had been decorated to fit the needs of a teenager. He saw posters with bands he wasn't familiar with, books and various objects scattered about, a bed, and other things that made the room almost look livable. 

Almost, because he could still see the cracks in the walls, and he was certain that if he still had senses he would smell mildew and there would be a noticeable chill in the air. It wasn't clean, and it barely looked safe to be in, but obviously it was home.

"You live... Here?"

Lena scoffed. "Yeah, no manor I know, but it's better than some of the places I've been." She walked over to a small fridge he hadn't noticed at first. It was obviously not plugged in, but inside the slightly open door he could see Little Debbie snacks. There were only a few--he counted three--and he saw Lena frown. "Hm. Whelp." She almost said more, but shook her head.

She walked over to the bed and placed her phone on it. "Anyways, think of what you think we should do. I can't promise it will actually work, but it's not like I want to be stuck with you for--forever." He wondered if she changed her mind on what she was about to say. She looked at him with a look he couldn't place and picked up an oversized shirt from off her bed. "Do you mind?"

"Do I--Oh! 'O course, sorry." He closed his eyes and placed a hand over them for good measure as she changed. "So you're gonna help, then?" He had a million more questions and his heart ached to get to planning, but he knew he couldn't press too much. Given her exhausted state she wouldn't be much help then, anyways. He had hope, too, given that she apparently wasn't  _ unwilling _ to help him.

She was silent for a moment save for the sound of rustling clothes. "Not because I have a choice."

She sounded so... Broken. He started to think that maybe someone who worked under Magica wasn't in the best place. Actually he cursed himself for not considering that sooner, given the apparent living conditions Lena had been in since working for her.

"Tell me Lass, you said she's your aunt. Do ya... Do ya have anyone else, besides her?"

She was quiet again, this time without the noise of clothes. He wanted to look, but didn't want to seem rude. Even to someone who had tricked him and apparently made him into a shadow. He was, after all, a gentleman. 

"No."

No reasoning or story, no room for conversation or questions. His heart flipped. He got the feeling in his gut that he had been very wrong. Which really shouldn't have been surprising; he was wrong a lot. 

"Do--"

"You can look now." She definitely interrupted him on purpose, but he opened his eyes anyways. She climbed onto the bed and fiddled with the phone in her hands. "No, I don't have anyone else, and no, we're not talking about it. I'm going to sleep." And, sure enough, she turned over and pulled the cover up over her. She faced away from the wall, which he settled on awkwardly. He realized it would be a long night, fretting and worrying about what to do, but it couldn't be helped.

"Fine, fine." He huffed. He remembered his family, suddenly, as he watched Lena settle into a comfortable position. He remembered tucking the boys in on the few nights they sought him out and convinced him to. He remembered the goodnight hugs Webby managed to get from him, which he only pretended not to look forward to. His chest tightened despite the fact he no longer needed air.

It would definitely be a long night.

He stared at a spot on the wall across from him as he began to think. While he was still upset and resentful about what had happened a few days before, he felt a new kind of fear as the threat of Magica loomed over him. She knew he had family, and evidently even knew about Webby and the others. While Lena may be right that she would wait for her attack, he did't want to risk too much. He could be mad at them without wanting them dead.

His gaze strayed around the room before it finally rested on Lena. He was angry, there was no doubt. He had been tricked and betrayed and that anger wouldn't go away immediately. And yet, as he watched her form wiggle in place to get comfortable, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Someone in the care of Magica couldn't have been in a good place, physically or mentally. Magica was a nuisance at best who loved getting under people's skin and wreaking havoc.

He glanced at the peeling posters and the cracked walls and figured Magica was all Lena knew. It wouldn't be fair to be angry at her.

_ Like it wouldn't be fair to be angry at four children who didn't know what was going on? _

He scowled. That was different. They had no respect for him, no respect for his hard earned legacy or his money. 


	6. fusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for some reason webby and lena are in webby's body/mind? i dont remember why but it's interesting at least!

“Webby, we just want to help!”

“Yeah, what the heck? You’re acting like we’re out to get you!”

Lena kept her arms wrapped around her head as she sobbed. Webby’s fear had amplified her own, and she couldn’t control their thoughts anymore. She had hurt Webby, even unintentionally, and it made her feel like her whole body was on fire. The guilt and shame hurt worse than whatever flashback she had.

Webby, for her part, couldn’t understand what was going on. She couldn’t understand that they weren’t in danger because Lena’s mind had told them they were, so obviously they had to be. She didn’t know that it wasn’t real, like Lena did. And, even though Lena knew it wasn’t real, it didn’t mean it didn’t scare her, too.

Because at one time, it had been real. And brains were stupid. And she hated them.

Lena knew eventually Webby would calm down and they could talk about it. She wasn’t looking forward to the conversation by any means, but she felt like she owed Webby for the disaster. On top of that, now their whole family--Webby’s family--was concerned, and they all stood around them in a circle in the garden.

It had felt like they ran for ages, but apparently they had only gotten so far as a flower bed before they had collapsed.

\---------------------

Lena peeked her head around the door, half hoping the room was empty and half hoping Beakley was there. She was in luck--or unluck--because sure enough the older duck sat on the edge of her bed. She looked up from her book when she saw Lena and smiled.

“Good evening, girls. Everything okay?”

She nodded. Technically Webby was there, so it wasn’t necessarily lying to say it was both of them. Even if it was mostly Lena, with Lena’s plan in mind, and Lena’s problems. It would be fine. Surely.

Lena stepped into the room, unsure of what to do. She hope that if she just kept walking she would eventually figure out what to say or do. 

She longed to just be able to ask for a hug. (And why can’t you?, Webby asked from the back of their mind, but Lena didn’t answer. Webby knew why.) She wanted to be able to say that she thought about it, about being held and hugged when she was upset. Or maybe even just because.

When Granny had hugged them after their panic attack, it set off something in Lena. Something that she had forgotten about; pushed under years of other memories and years of survival tactics. She had very few memories of being comforted, and she had elected to ignore them for years. Eventually, when you realize you aren’t getting comfort back no matter how hard you try, you figure out that it only serves to hurt you as a reminder.

Or it leads you to a situation where you’re standing in front of your best friend’s grandmother, too scared to ask for a goodnight hug because she might, somehow, hate you for it.

(She doesn’t hate you.)

She wished she had her phone to fiddle with as she fidgeted under Granny’s patient stare. She wasn’t about to ask Lena to speak if she wasn’t ready, even if Lena herself was frustrated. Honestly Lena wasn’t even sure if Granny knew it was her. She hoped she didn’t, but they had all found that her and Webby were a bit different from each other. In about every way possible.

It had only been a few seconds, but Lena felt like she hadn’t spoken in years. Her tongue wouldn’t work and her mouth felt like it had been glued shut. She hated when that happened; when she was too overwhelmed to speak. But, it happened, and she had to adapt. But how could she convey her thoughts to Granny if she didn’t even know what to say?

She felt the almost-familiar tug of Webby trying to take over, and she mentally slipped to the side as Webby came to the front. They smiled, nervously, and Webby put their hands in the air.

Much to Lena’s surprise, they were immediately wrapped in a hug.

Lena buried her face in Granny’s shoulder and smiled, thankful for both of them. 

Granny gave her a tight squeeze. “You two get some rest, okay? You need it.” They felt a hand on their head, followed by the feeling of Granny kissing the top of their head. They pulled back and nodded.

“Goodnight, Granny.” They said quietly as they slunk back through the doorway. Lena, once again mostly in control, sighed and relaxed her shoulders. She felt much better, despite the stress the scene had caused.

As she closed the door behind them, she heard a soft voice say, “Goodnight, Lena.”


	7. sisters and brothers

“Sister?” Webby’s eyes widened.

Huey frowned, “Yeah I mean--Well, I know we just say family for short but, you’re just as much my sibling as Dewey and Louie. You’re just newer.” He hoped he hadn’t made her uncomfortable, or that he hadn’t sounded awkward or forced. It just felt natural to call her so.

“You really mean that? Like, sister-sister? Like, a sibling? Like a female sibling?” Her grin had gotten wider and wider and she held her hands in excited fists against her chest. Her grin was contagious, and he smiled too.

“Yes, that’s typically what sister means.” He joked, “No code word there.” He yelped as he was tackled to the ground by the over-excited duckling, and together they laughed as they ended up on their backs facing the ceiling.

Webby was quiet for a moment, an oddity, before she spoke softly. “You guys mean a lot to me. As friends, and as family.”

“As brothers?”

“As brothers.”


	8. steven universe crossover

Lena blinked her eyes open slowly, reluctant to give up more sleep. She realized she was wrapped in a blanket, and seemed to even be laying on a pillow, which were certainly not helping her need to wake up eventually. She felt warmth, like stale air and sunshine through a window, and realized she must be in a bedroom somewhere. But, that thought nagged at her brain, because where could she be?

She opened her eyes and was surprised when she saw bright, warm colors all around her. This wasn’t her house, or Webby’s house… So…

Ohhh, right. The spell, being teleported, right, right. So Magica had sent her somewhere. Somewhere warm with a soft bed and apparently someone who cared enough to put her in it. And--was her arm--yes, and also her wounds were bandaged.

Magica was so bad at everything she did. It was truly amazing.

Lena lifted her head to peer around as she slowly began to wake up more. She wasn’t overly alarmed, seeing as how she seemed to have been treated well as she was patched up. But she was still weary of a place she didn’t know. Not to mention she would inevitably have to answer questions about who she was, or why she was there, or maybe they even knew about her being involved with Magica…

“Whoa, so you are real!”

She wasn’t surprised to hear a voice nearby, but she still jumped a bit over how loud it was. She saw a face--a purple face, no less-- peer at her from an edge in front of her. Beside the purple face was another face, more pinkish or light brown in color. Both faces grinned at her, and she tilted her head quizzically. 

“Sure hope so.” She offered, unsure of what else to say. “Where am I?”

* * *

“Hey, it’s okay.” Greg ran his fingers through her hair, which was distracting enough to make her listen to him. “You’re safe here, I promise. I would never let anyone hurt you, or Steven, or Connie, or anyone.”

And she believed him, she really did. But her brain just couldn’t stop telling her that she was in trouble, that she was going to be hurt. She was so used to Magica’s influence that everything else just seemed unnatural. Where was her aunt, to yell at her, to call her useless and incompetent and--

“Hey, hey, don’t say that.” She buried her face more into Greg’s chest when he gently scolded her. She hadn’t meant to talk out loud, but she wasn’t surprised she did. “It’s okay. I don’t know who told you those things, but they’re not true. You’re just a kid. No one should say that to a kid.”


	9. genderfluid lena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i might have posted this as part of another story but i cant remember and im too lazy to look tbh. 
> 
> general misgendering and magica warning for this chapter

In a darkened room underneath an abandoned amphitheater, Lena de Spell stared into a mirror and smiled at his reflection. He had taken off his usual long sleeve striped shirt and instead only wore the button-up underneath. The sleeves had been rolled up and the shirt was adjusted to sit just a bit higher on his legs than usual. His hair had been styled back instead of it's usual not-emo-sideswipe style, and he smirked at his reflection.

He had to admit, he looked nice. His shirt was even freshly cleaned and smelled like cheap laundry soap. He felt a bit bare without his normal sleeves, but he was willing to sacrifice a bit of comfort for his aesthetic.

"I don't see why you think this matters. No one ever takes you seriously, anyways." He scoffed and rolled his eyes at his aunt's voice. She was such a downer.

"We talked about this. It doesn't get in the way of your stupid plan." He checked his phone's battery as his aunt made a sound of protest. 87% charge, perfect. That would last him probably the whole day, and if he hung out at the McDuck Manor they had chargers if he needed them. "Nit-picker."

"Ungrateful niece."

He ignored the blatant jab and began the climb out of where he lived. He sneezed when he opened the hatch and sand fell in his face. At least it hadn't fallen in his eyes again; Magica had laughed at him for three days the last time he fell down the ladder. 

He squinted against the sunlight, so different from his dimly lit room. As he scrambled over the stage and landed on the ground he began to think of his plan for the day. He had to find food, for sure, since he had only had lunch the day before. He had exactly two dollars and eighty seven cents (he had counted it five times already, and would probably obsessively count it through the day until he spent it) and while that couldn't get much, it could certainly fill his belly around lunch time if he couldn't sneak food out of the McDucks.

It was a bit early to get food since it was still morning and it possibly had to last all day, but there was a Waffle House nearby that was warm. The late October air wasn't often chilly enough on it's own, but he slept underground in a room that wasn't meant to be a room, so his bones were absolutely chilled. He could probably get a coffee and load it up with sugar... He didn't know much about health and diets but maybe that would be a good amount of calories.

He nodded to himself and began to walk towards the restaurant. It had the added benefit of having very nice ladies who wouldn't kick him out when they figured out he wasn't going to buy anything else.. Unlike the man at the laundromat who had kicked him out around midnight despite it being a 24/7 place. Prick.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the limo pull up next to him as he walked down a road just before the main road. He turned his head, curious and apprehensive, and his eyes widened when he saw Beakley, of all people, looking at him with a satisfied look on her face.

"I thought that was you, but I didn't quite recognize you without your shirt. Anyways, we are having a late pancake breakfast at the manor, would you like to come?" Her tone was curt as ever, but he knew she didn't mean any harm. He also began to think she wasn't as oblivious to his food-nabbing as he might have thought. 

He smiled, teasing, "We're still talking about real pancakes, right?"

Without missing a beat, Beakley shot back, "I will make you eat English muffins covered in syrup if you start this within five minutes of seeing you."

He laughed, real and honest, and she opened the door for him to scoot in beside her. "Okay, okay. Kidnap me at will." She only shook her head at that, but he could see her try not to smile. Their relationship was weirdly rocky and he didn't quite understand why. He knew she was scared for Webby, and he secretly knew she was absolutely right, but he was also a child. It felt weird to him that an adult like her could have been so harsh to him in the beginning.

But she offered him food and a warm place to eat it, so he didn't want to complain. Outside of it being important for his mission, it was nice to have a place to go if he really needed it. He was afraid of wearing out his welcome eventually, but that was a problem for Future Lena.

"So, I'm dying to know," Her dry tone mixed with her accent made him grin at the use of the phrase, "Where is your other shirt? Can't say I've seen you without it before."

He shrugged, "It needed a wash, and I look good like this." He tilted his chin up and smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That you do." Beakley chuckled, "And your hair? Is that part of your look, as well?" She looked at him, really looked at him, and he suddenly felt naked. The mix of not having his shirt and suddenly not having as much confidence as he thought made him feel absolutely bare in front of her. He felt... self conscious.

"Uh, yeah." He looked away and shrugged. He hoped he didn't sound too dismissive, but it occurred to him she wanted to talk more about his look. While it was true he sometimes told people, loudly, proudly, that he was sometimes a boy, he really didn't want to have that conversation with Beakley. Challenging her and teasing her was one thing, but if she actually was dismissive of him again, especially over something like that, it would really bother him. "It just looks cool, I guess."

Beakley hummed in agreement. "Yes, quite handsome indeed. Oh, do you like chocolate chips in your pancakes, or fruit?"

"Uh, chocolate, obviously." He shook his head in faux-disbelief that she would even ask. Despite it, though, he thought about what she said. Handsome. Out of all the things she could say, she called him handsome. It--that could be used gender-neutrally. It's just a compliment. But... He felt a bit better. A bit less bare. This was the woman who raised Webby, after all. Maybe she wasn't all sour-feathers.

He looked out the window and couldn't help but smile when he saw the manor come into sight.

* * *

" _ Lena! _ " Lena was, thankfully, prepared for Webby's crushing hug as soon as he stepped into the foyer. He snorted and let her hug him as he shuffled his way towards the kitchen, Webby solidly attached to his side. In front of them the boys nodded to him and waddled sleepily towards the kitchen as well. They must have had a late adventure, since it was almost eleven and they seemed to have just gotten up. 

"Wow, your hair looks so cool! And you're shirt is fancy!" Lena smiled with a sideways look. He loved the way Webby said what was on her mind, even if sometimes it made him flinch in fear out of memory of his own rejections.

He shrugged. "Thanks."

Webby separated from him and skipped around the room, obviously much more awake than any of them. Donald and Scrooge already sat at the table, and Launchpad carried in the ingredients he and Beakley had fetched earlier. Lena waved lazily at the adults at the table, who both nodded and waved back. It wasn't uncommon to see Lena around at any hour at that point.

* * *

Lena shrugged. “‘S just a boy day.” He would let her draw her own conclusions and ask her own questions. He didn’t want to pour his heart out or anything, especially not of Magica could be listening. Which she probably was, the creep.

Webby was quiet for a moment as she pondered what he said. It was a bit odd to see her so quiet, but it wasn’t that uncommon. Webby was smart, and sometimes that meant she had to process things for a moment before she could even begin to figure out what to say.

“Do you… have a different name on a boy day?”

He shook his head, “I’ve thought about it, but Lena’s still okay.”

“Pronouns?”

He paused for a moment. “He/him would be nice.” 


	10. m'ma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh man, re-reading this one.. i still love it. i realized i didnt have the confidence to write fenton and his family, but i got pretty far into a setup for this one. id love to see someone do something with this honestly.

Nothing brought Gloria back to the land of the living quite like the sound of her phone going off. When you're a cop for twenty years, you learn that a lot of bad things happen in the middle of the night. The hours she worked haunted her during the day, but it was those few calls in the middle of the night that haunted the rest of her existence. They probably always would.

She snapped open her phone and leaned on her elbow. She swiped at the hair that fell into her eyes and eyed the alarm clock at her bedside. 3:17. She would be getting up in an hour anyways, so it was likely she wasn't going back to sleep regardless of who was on the other end of the line. "'M, Crackshell-Cabrera." 

The voice on the other end was familiar, but it didn't ease her mind any. "It's Ramirez. You busy?"

She scoffed. "Not anymore. What is it?" 

"...It's a bit odd. We've got a kid we need you to take."

She froze. The phrase was so odd she almost wondered if she was still asleep. Was this a dream? "The hell do you mean,  _ a kid? _ "

There was a noise suspiciously similar to laughter on the other line before Ramirez answered. "I told them that would be your reaction. Listen, it's like I said, we've got a kid here. Runaway, right outta the system. It's a long story, but someone higher up decided she needed a home tonight, and none of our regular ones will do. We found out you're certified, and, well." She could  _ hear _ his smug shrug. He wasn't the one getting a kid in the middle of the night.

"'None of our regular ones will do'" She mocked and rolled her eyes. "Why was  _ I _ called? Ramirez, you know I can't keep a kid." Sure, she was certified, but that was because she had to take care of one of her cousins for a few months. And she kept it up, because you never knew when you had to do something like that again. Except she didn't know it would lead her boss to deciding a  _ runaway _ was a good fit for her.

"I know, I know, but it's only for a few days, tops. Boss is offerin' a day's paid leave if you accept." His voice rose slightly in a teasing way and she could see him wiggle his eyebrows in her mind. She knew the man too well. That fact alone made her feathers puff out in anger.

"...Twistin' my arm, Ramirez, fine, fine. I'll be there in a little bit."

A day's paid leave wasn't bad. She knew she'd also get compensation from the state for however long she kept the kid. She threw on her clothes and inspected herself in the mirror. Presentable. Sleep deprived. It wasn't even 4am yet. 

" _ How do I get myself into these messes? _ " She grumbled to herself and rubbed her eyes. One positive thing was that she had considered eventually fostering kids, besides family in need. Years down the road, of course, when she had retired and her son had a family of his own. But maybe it would be a good trial run. There would be a lot of 'first meetings' down that road.

_ Don't get attached. _ She scolded herself,  _ Who knows what trouble this could bring. It's too early to THINK! _

She stepped out into the hallway and walked towards Fenton's room. She nearly screeched when the door opened before she could reach for the knob, and she glared wearily at the sheepish duck that peaked out from behind the door.

"You're going to kill your mother."

"S-sorry, M'ma. You have to go in early?"

Ah, so he had heard her getting ready. They were both creatures of habit, even if Fenton tended to forget habit in his... crazes.

"I'm not sure of all the details, but I might be bringing a kid home. Something something, need an emergency home, something something." She waved a hand in the air, "It was Ramirez, you know how I hate that man."

Fenton's eyes shined as he smiled. "Yes, M'ma. Do you know how long they'll be here?"

"No, no clue. I'll find out later though. You be good!"

Once outside she took a breath to steady herself. It was just a kid. A job, just like any other. A day's paid leave. She could do it. With that in mind, she hoped in her car and made it to the station ten minutes later. She loved the way the city looked that early--part of it were dull, gray, and asleep, but other parts were bright and colorful and more alive than some people ever were. The contrast was striking, artistic almost.

"You made it!" Ramirez's voice carried great distances and Gloria walked down the florescently lit hall towards him. "She's in here."

Gloria hadn't really been expecting anything; she knew she would probably be wrong, whatever she thought, so she didn't imagine anything about the kid before they met. But still, somehow, a teenage duckling was somehow surprising.

The duckling sat leaned over a table with a bored look on her face. In front of her was a box of pizza and two cans of soda, with the box of pizza half empty. Her feet didn't touch the ground, so they swung lazily back and forth. She looked exhausted.

"This is Lena le Strange. Tooootally made up last name, but she won't tell us how she did it." Ramirez and Lena glared at each other, but Gloria could see the teasing easily. "Unknown age, probably mid to early teens. Duckling, but that part's obvious. Speaks English and sarcasm fluently."

Gloria smiled at the easy one-sided banter. Lena rolled her eyes, a testament to her character.

"And Lena, this is Gloria, also known as M'ma Crackshell-Cabrera." Ramirez waved an arm extravagantly in Gloria's direction and she rolled her eyes and took a step to the side.

"Aye, si, that's me. I'm  _ so  _ sorry you had to deal with Ramirez for so long."

Lena groaned, the first sound Gloria had heard her make, and slumped back in her seat. "They told me I wasn't in trouble, but I'm certain that was torture."

Gloria laughed and Ramirez fake-winced. "Yeowch, kid."

So she wasn't in trouble. That knocked out one of Gloria's theories on why she was needed. She glanced at her boss's door and found it closed, which meant someone else was inside with him. She spared a glance at Ramirez, who had gone back to talking to Lena animatedly. Lena easily kept up with his jokes despite the fact that her beak dipped a little lower every few seconds. The fact that those two got along made her question her sanity just a tiny bit.

"Cabrera. Could you come in here, please?" Gloria's head jerked up as her boss called her into his office. He closed the door behind them and gestured to the two seats in front of his desk.

In one of the seats was a man in a very, very expensive looking tux. Gloria knew from experience that meant he was an agent of some kind, a higher up, and made probably five times as much as she did. She nodded to him and sat in the seat to his left.

"Now the circumstances are, of course, unusual." Her boss, Hill, sighed. "But we need you to take this kid in for a few days. You'll be compensated for your time. I know Ramirez said one day leave, but the truth is it might be a bit more than that."

The agent to her right spoke up. "She's part of an ongoing case we're trying to solve. We think the best solution is to settle her down somewhere safe before continuing."

"So, like witness protection?" She raised a brow. She knew for a fact they had families trained to foster in WP.

The agent nodded. "Similar. But there are some complications that would be involved with sending her that far out. What we need is for you to just... Hold her for a few days. Keep her out of trouble, tell us if she says anything concerning, that's it."

"And I'll be getting paid to... Babysit?"

Hill laughed and the agent nodded. "An excellent way to think of it. Of course, her freedom will be limited. We're not sure if she'll run again, which is why the plan changed a bit."

"And also why we think you're good for the job." Hill smiled, "If you'll accept."

Babysitting a runaway teenager skills weren't exactly on her resume. Still, she remembered the haunted look in Lena's eyes and the half eaten pizza on the table. That was something she could deal with for a few days. She had raised Fenton, and while she was certain Lena had her own problems she had confidence it could be done.

She glanced at the clock on Hill's desk. 4:23am. It certainly wasn't the worst call she had ever gotten before five. She wasn't overly religious, but she knew a sign when she saw one. 

"Sure. I accept."

After a surprising amount of documentation and contracts, Gloria finally stepped back out of Hill's office after she shook his and the agent's hands. She was surprised to find Lena asleep at the table and Ramirez across from her. Ramirez winked.

"So you accepted." His voice was low, not quite a whisper.

"I couldn't bear the thought of them asking  _ you _ to take my place." She grinned and looked at her charge. "Wore her out, huh?"

"How much did they tell you?"

His voice was surprisingly concerned, which made her furrow her brow. "Just that she's needed for a case. Figured it was a higher-up." She glanced at Lena, curious about how she could help a case as a runaway foster child.

Ramirez shook his head, "I mean how we found her. Kid was sleepin' under the old amphitheater by the bay. Ate half a pizza before I got her a soda."

Gloria winced. For all her struggles, she had never been homeless. She had gone to bed hungry plenty of times, sometimes that couldn't be helped, but homeless... Even if she had been homeless at some point, she would have had family. Lena didn't. She shook her head to clear her thoughts; she was there to help now, and that was what mattered.

"Sometimes that's better than the system." She sighed, and Ramirez nodded. They both knew the dangers of being even on the good side of the law. Bad cops, bad foster parents, bad anything. Being 'where you're supposed to be' didn't always mean you were better off. She couldn't tell for sure, but Lena didn't seem like the kind of kid that ran away because she didn't get the newest phone.

  
  
  
  



End file.
